


At the Gala

by BlueNocturne



Category: Worm (Web Serial Novel)
Genre: F/M, Happy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNocturne/pseuds/BlueNocturne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glory Girl and Gallant make time to be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Gala

I'm a career girl.

Ames would shake her head at that, and say that what we did was a public service and not a career. My mom and dad would rag on me about that being my excuse for not studying enough. Being an independent superhero didn't come with anything like a steady paycheck. I needed to think about what sort of job I wanted when I grew up, they'd say, because Mom was a lawyer and Uncle Neil did interior decorating and both still had bills to pay during the dry months.

But it's totally true. My job, my passion, is being Glory Girl.

I fly around, kick the shit out of bad guys, help people, and look fantastic doing it. Ames might think all there is to this profession is do-gooding, but you gotta have a rep too. Me getting my name out there makes assholes less likely to pull any stupid stunts when they see me coming. Working grade schools means little girls want to be me when they grow up, and not evil shits like Purity or Squealer. 

Then there's social events like tonight. I can't tell you how many times I've rubbed elbows at the Forsberg Gallery. Ames gets bored out of her mind, but there's a point to getting out there and chatting up the city's elite. Making a point of remembering some city councilman's name --- I don't really, but that's what pre-party flash card review is for --- shows I care about them, and that they should care about me. It's investing in a relationship for the future. 

Just one rub.

My awesome superhero boyfriend is also a careerist, and tonight's the first time we've met face-to-face outside school in over a week. 

We each circle the ballroom, me doing my New Wave thing and him doing his humble Ward thing, and eventually 'happen' to link up near a punchbowl.

Gallant, clad in his all-concealing power armor, doesn't slip his hand into mine when I come close, nor does he kiss me hello. Because I'm dating his secret identity, not some Ward I should only know in a professional context. 

Which sucks ass.

"Good evening, Glory Girl," he buzzed, even his voice disguised behind a mild scrambler. 

"Gallant."

He made a show of pouring me a glass of fruit punch. It was nonalcoholic, meant for the handful of minors in attendance, and as such had a large dead zone around it. Kids and no booze, two things lots of adults loved.

As he passed the glass to me, Gallant said, quietly, "Coast is clear."

I exhaled, and he rocked back a little as my aura let go of its false front. For a little while I didn't need to keep up appearances.

"I'm... uh... sensing a little frustration," he said. "Is this about...?"

"You hung up on me."

"My dad came home early."

"I had to finish myself off. Want to know how many batteries I went through?"

Gallant made a 'keep it down' gesture. 

"It's been nine days since we were _together_ ," I whispered. "The phone stuff isn't cutting it anymore."

"I know. Our schedules--"

"--suck."

"But I should have made more time for you, and I'm sorry I haven't."

I sighed, my irritation at him draining away. "No. I get it. Patrols. Paperwork. Your dad's business. We've both had other responsibilities."

"We also have each other, and I can tell you need something only..."

Gallant and I lapsed into silence for a moment, as the mayor's sister came with a young brunette in tow. The mayor's niece, I think? She wasn't in my flash cards. Big slip on my part. I made a mental note to correct that when I got home tonight.

Once they were gone, I cleared my throat. "You were saying something about what I needed?"

Gallant nodded. "We should go downstairs to take care of it."

As usual, I ended up breathless around my boyfriend. I'd come over here to vent, but now I felt a stirring in my belly at his brazen suggestion. Given he was an empath, that was probably answer enough for him. But I still had to ask. "Really? Now?"

"Are you saying you don't want to?"

"Hell no," I replied, a shade too loudly. Sipping my drink, I covertly checked to see if anyone nearby had noticed my outburst. I plucked the cherry from my punch of bunch and peeled the fleshy fruit off the pit with my front teeth. "Mom won't miss me for a little bit, and Ames is off sulking on the balcony. You?"

"Dennis can cover for me for a little while. Ten, fifteen minutes?"

"It's been _nine days_ ," I whined. "I need more than fifteen minutes."

"Trust me. With what I'm seeing radiate off your skin, it won't take you that long."

I wrinkled my nose at him. "Fine."

Gallant returned to his meet-and-greet work, angling to link up with Clockblocker down at the other end of the refreshment table. I made my own way back through the crowd, stopping here and there to shake hands with local big wigs and laugh at their lame jokes. All the while, sparks of anticipation lit up my core, and it seemed all the more thrilling because nobody here suspected how moist I was getting.

Eventually, I slipped away from the fancy party to a deserted side stairwell.

There was an out-of-the-way conference room, two floors down, that we'd rendezvoused at a several times in the past. Mostly because of the couch. It was an odd thing, jammed into the corner of the room, presumably because whoever owned the office space had nowhere better to put it and because pitching it would be a bigger hassle. 

My heart fluttered, thinking of the dear memories Dean and I made on it. It had been hard to find alone time outside of these parties when we were younger. That couch had been an escape from our parents. 

For the longest time, Dean hadn't want me to feel rushed in our relationship. He'd driven me crazy, in the best and worst senses of the word, during those long months where he wasn't comfortable doing more than petting me through my clothes. But I had trained him well since then.

If we weren't in fancy dress while we shared that couch, we were in costumes. I didn't want to say the sex was better with our costumes on. Peeling a tuxedo off Dean was its own reward. Making love was... really really great, whatever we tried together. The feel of our sweaty flesh grinding against one another was just as much of an adventure as taking care not to stain our clothes during playtime. 

But I did feel more powerful as Glory Girl, and sexier too.

The windowless conference room was utterly dark, as well as cold from the building's central air conditioner running at full blast to handle both packed ballrooms. I flicked the overhead lights on, stepped inside, and locked the bolt on the door behind me. I double-checked it just to be sure. 

Reassured that no one would walk in on me, I reached under my white skirt and hooked my thumbs on the snug elastic band of my modesty shorts, the best friend of any female flyer in a skirt.

Cool air kissed my damp panties. They too soon joined my modesty shorts in a neatly folded pile on the floor, next to my purse.

I exhaled, and rubbed my upper arms. 

Preshow jitters.

There was a clock on the wall. I watched its second hand move with agonizing slowness. It was almost a full four minutes before there was a subdued knock on the door. I checked my tiara, adjusting it slightly, and then knocked back twice. My breath caught in my throat until Gallant tapped the right code in response. 

It wouldn't do for Glory Girl to be found with a bare derriere. 

Gallant slipped inside, and I immediately relocked the door.

Damn it. He was gorgeous in costume. Armored in polished silver and gunmetal, with neon trim at his seams, Gallant looked as if he was a knight who'd stepped out of some mad fairy tale. His helmet was all-concealing. I couldn't see his smile, or his eyes. But he could see me, would see _all_ of me.

I cozied up to my boyfriend, planting a chaste kiss on the 'mouth' of his helmet. A faint imprint from my lipstick remained to mark my territory. "Aren't you going to take that mask off?"

He shook his head.

"You know, you're not dressed right for the tall, _dark_ and silent routine."

Gallant reached down under my skirt, tracing a line along my outer thigh, up my hourglass figure, as if inspecting me for quality. His armored glove finally cupped a soft breast through my costume, making a slow circular motions with his open palm, rubbing me through the molded uniform piece that acted like a built-in sports bra. You couldn't impress villains by jiggling at them during a brawl. 

With his other hand, Gallant stroked the line of my neck. 

"And you're not dressed right for a heroine. No underwear. Lewd." His tongue clicked against his teeth. "Maybe you don't deserve to wear any of it."

"No!" I burst. "I need it tonight. Please."

Gallant's playful hand abandoned my neck to cup my cheek. With his gloved hand, he rubbed my lips. "All right. But these?" He brusquely squeezed the breast he held. "I still want to see."

He loomed over me in his power armor, body unyielding when mine was soft and pliable. Locking my gaze with his eyeless gunmetal face, I nibbled on my lip as Gallant reached for the recessed zipper near my neckline. The mystique was spoiled somewhat as he fumbled with it. "My gloves," he explained simply.

"Don't worry." I took hold of the zipper and peeled it downward slowly, then parted my costume, showing him what he was hungry for. "Glory Girl's here to save the day."

My large breasts hardly needed a bra for support. A sigh escaped me as Gallant filled his gloves with their soft flesh, which spilled out between his fingers. He stroked and teased me, flirting with my stiffening nipples but only that. It felt nice, and his undivided attention was even better, but my patience wore thin as Gallant lavished my bosom with affection to the exclusion of the rest of me, which ached for his touch. 

"You're such a little boy," I chided him.

"That's not what you've said in the past."

"Mm-hm. If you'd like, I could get Ames to make them bigger."

"No." He added, admiringly, "You're just the right size."

"Maybe a third one then."

"Promise?"

I broke away from him. "Stop. You've had your fun. I n-need..."

I rocked back and forth a little in my polished knee-high white boots, fidgeting.

"Tell me," he ordered.

The room's chilled air licked at my bare mound, making it hard to think straight. I patted my skirt down, self-conscious, and a bit miffed at my own body undermining me. "You know."

Gallant reached down, slipping armored fingers around my slim wrist. He pulled my hand away from my skirt. Gallant didn't have to be gentle reprimanding me, like this. In his power armor he could bend steel, and I could always take a lot of punishment. "Don't be coy, Glory Girl."

"Like you said, I want you to... take care of me."

"Where?"

I glanced over my shoulder, at the conference table. A change of pace. 

"Inside," Gallant asked, "or outside?"

I'd long ago had my sister adjust my monthly cycle, flipping it off while maintaining all the right hormones. No bleeding. No cramps or crying jags anymore. Best of all, no possibility of any accidents with Gallant. It was the best birth control on the planet with zero side effects. 

Yet while I craved the feeling of my boyfriend buried deep inside my folds, throbbing as he spilled himself into me, we didn't have a lot of time, and only idiots skimped on cleaning themselves up. I didn't mind being slutty with a boy I loved. Looking slutty in front of Brockton Bay's elite---and more importantly, my mother---was a different story entirely.

"Outside," I replied.

Gallant put a hand to the small of my back and led me over to the conference table. I planted my hands at its edge and bent over, pushing my cape off to one side, flushing not in embarrassment but in rising need as I presented myself for him to plough. My clit throbbed for his touch. 

I craned my head back toward my boyfriend.

Mr. Stansfield had splurged on Gallant's second-hand power armor, but it was Armsmaster who maintained it, and who constantly needled my boyfriend about upgrades that he should sign off on to increase its field efficiency. Like installing a catheter to increase his maximum time ceiling for patrols. Gallant had declined because that was crazy talk, and opted to keep things simple.

Which had benefits beyond easier bathroom breaks.

The codpiece of Gallant's neon-trimmed power armor retracted, and his plentiful manhood, wet with pre-cum, spilled out. He might've sighed in relief at no longer being caged, but if he did I wasn't paying attention. My focus was squarely on the hand that Gallant cupped himself with, stroking himself to full length. For me.

My full breasts felt heavy, my nipples so tight they ached. The knot of warmth in my stomach begged to be stoked to full flame. 

Gallant let go of himself and slipped that dirty hand between my thighs, avoiding my cleft even as I dipped down in a bid to press myself into his fingers. He massaged my taut lubricated skin. I'd started dripping all over myself ever since he'd first propositioned me upstairs in the ballroom.

At any other time, I would've flustered in embarrassment. I loved sex. I loved my boyfriend. But I was practically a living fire hydrant, and there wasn't anything remotely attractive about that in my book. 

It was very, very hard to worry about that with Gallant kneading my inner thigh. 

I swallowed as a tiny tremor took me. Not from orgasm. It was need.

"They're going to be looking for us if you don't hurry," I said.

Gallant flipped my white skirt over. He cupped my butt with both gloved hands and squeezed gently. "Hurry to do what?"

"Don't play games."

"What do you want me to do to you, Glory Girl?"

"Take me." 

"Take you where? Back upstairs?"

"Fuck me."

Gallant, as always, was a perfect gentleman when it came to obeying proper playtime etiquette. Without releasing his hold on my rump, he thrust into me with practiced ease. I gasped, rolling my head at the ecstasy of his familiar girth filling me. So good. So good. 

I groaned as Gallant pulled back to my folds, then out of me completely. "N-no!"

I felt hollow, now. The ache in my core only gathered pressure as he dragged her slick, bulbous head along the length of my plump lower lips. Ghosting inward. Pulling back. Teasing me at his leisure.

"You're a bastard, Dean Stansfield!"

The synthesized voice from his helmet announced evenly, "If you're going to scream my name already, there's not much point in me putting in extra work to make you cum, is there?"

"Put your cock back in me," I hissed through clenched teeth, "or I'll knock you down and rape what I need out of you."

Rather than answering straight away, Gallant instead took one hand off my buttocks and gathered up my long platinum blonde locks. I bit my lip in anticipation of what was coming. Because once he had a good hold on me, Gallant yanked my head back while simultaneously slamming himself back into my sopping pussy. 

He stuck up a measured tempo, pulling out partway and then pushing back into my core. In his power armor he couldn't push himself into me all the way down to his root, couldn't mash his skin against mine. I didn't mind. Gallant towered behind me, strong and powerful enough to work me however he desired. I was his, and that's all my heart wanted.

Wet, obscene sounds filled the conference room. 

I rolled my hips against Gallant's shaft, and he allowed me a degree of freedom, let me dictate his course so that he dipped closer to the pearl of nerves uncovered by my arousal. Yet he didn't let me pull him closer, didn't cooperate as I poured a fraction of my brute strength into my walls, kneading his straining cock and trying to keep him from slipping out of me. 

Only when I came did I finally take back control. My sex contracted around him, gripping Gallant in place like a vice. My whole body flushed as wave after wave of tingling electricity filled me. My toes curled. Tears leaked from my clenched eyes, but I was too far gone to care about ruined mascara.

Slowly, slowly, slowly... I unwound. 

Gallant let go of my mane and, gently, wrapped his now-free arm around my stomach and helped me down to the floor. He never slipped out of me. I came to rest in his lap, my bare bottom flush against his metal suit. 

I rested bonelessly against and _atop_ him, my knight in shining armor.

Once I'd caught my breath, I squirmed a little in his lap, feeling his heat within me. His manhood had softened only slightly. "I didn't...hurt you?" 

"I'm fine," Gallant promised. "I'd wear you all day if I could, Vicky."

I kissed his featureless mask. "Do you want to finish on the top or the bottom?"

"What do you want?"

"It's possible to be too gallant, you know."

"...Mouth," he said, before hastening to add, "You can say no."

"You want a _blowjob_?" I teased him. 

Gallant nodded.

A flush lit up my whole body as I finally noted my reflection in his power armor. I needed to brush out my hair and retouch my mascara before I went back out in public. 

Still. Now that I was dressed for the part...

I leaned in, to the 'ear' of Gallant's helmet. "Do you want to shoot down my gagging throat," I whispered, "or all over my pretty face? Or on my tits?"

"All of the above."

I laughed and kissed him again. "Such a boy."

We clamored to our feet, and shifted over to the couch. The piece of office furniture groaned under the weight of Gallant's power armor. It might've snapped in half if I'd added my own slight form to it, but my place right now was on the floor, kneeling between my boyfriend's spread legs. 

Gallant's uncircumcised manhood, hairless and shaved by me on another of our recent nights together, smelled strongly of both sweat and his heady musk. 

He'd regained his full vigor even before I laid a hand on him, thickly-veined cock engorged and seemingly straining against its own delicate skin. I gathered my long hair back to keep it out of the way, and looked up at Gallant's mask.

"The camera in your helmet better be off," I joked.

"You're worrying about that now?"

I didn't respond to his quip, because Gallant was a good man. You could trust him not to take advantage of you when you opened up to him. I'd never have to worry about a video of me working myself ragged on his fat shaft leaking on the internet, or him reviewing fond memories of tonight alone on his laptop.

I asked to tease, because I trust him enough to take him into my mouth, and savor the interplay of our combined juices---his biting musk, my delicate earthiness. Gallant tensed as I did just that, the heat of my mouth wrapped around his knob.

I worked him over, massaging the shaft of Gallant's cock with my hands while slurping and sucking him. His foreskin I toyed with, rolling it over his proud ridge with my lips, sucking it past his tip, letting it slip back. I pressed him into my cheek, letting him enjoy the outline of his manhood pushing against my smooth skin. All the while, I kept my eyes fixed on his. Not seeing their reaction, I could still expect he'd enjoy the sight of me worshipping him.

My spit-slick lips slipped off his diamond hard cock, but I kept close enough that my warm breath tickled his wet flesh. His taut flesh pulsed in time with his racing heartbeat. "I'm going to do something special just for you. I want you to tell me when you're about to pop, okay?"

Gallant mumbled a frazzled reply.

I raised myself off the ground a little, pulled my unzipped Glory Girl costume a little further apart, and took hold of my full breasts. The angle was a little awkward. Gallant couldn't quiet plunge all the way along my ample cleavage, more slip into and out of it. I didn't care. I felt the residual heat in my belly stir against at the feel of my boyfriend's cock against my bare skin, and at the certainty that Gallant would, after tonight, sneak glances at my chest more often in public, as their curves tempted him the fond memory of being buried between them.

"These are yours," I told him. "You're the only one who gets to enjoy them."

I leaned away from him, strings of translucent stickiness connecting us for a parting moment, and then I took Gallant back into my mouth. 

I moved down on him, suppressing my gag reflex until my nose was mashed against the outer shell of his power armor. A part of me cursed not being able to go deeper, to take Gallant all the way inside my throat. I loved going as far possible, pushing my body to its limit, hitting previously unreachable goals. 

His armored hand came to rest on my head, gently holding me down as I worked over his manhood. The hand I didn't have holding his shaft, I jammed between my weeping thighs, stoking the fire there.

"V-Victoria..."

Gallant tensed after that groan, which was all the warning I needed. 

His big cock spasmed as the first burst of seed explode into my throat. I wrenched myself backward, but on the way the second splashed onto my tongue, my teeth, and smeared across my pink lips. I shuddered, sinking two fingers inside myself even as Gallant spurted his seed all over my bare chest. 

I rode that wave of power I felt to my second climax of the night.

As pulses of heat and lightning faded away in my belly, I slipped my mouth back around my boyfriend's wilting manhood and suckled the last few pearls out of him, washing him clean with my tongue.

Dean finally removed his helmet. His cheeks was red, and his trim blond hair soaked in sweat. "You're," he gasped, "amazing."

I smirked, and gathered up the seed on my chin and breasts, licking it off my fingers as he watched. All while my tits hung out of my costume and my Glory Girl tiara rested atop a disheveled platinum mane. I didn't love the taste, but I wanted to put on a show he'd never forget. Dean was mine and would stay mine, because I was the best girlfriend anyone could have. "Don't go thinking I'll do that every time. You have to earn it."

He almost pouted. 

"We're going to be in so much trouble," Dean said, head lolling back.

"Why? What time is---OH SHIT! Mom's going to crucify me!"

There was no time to enjoy the afterglow. I hurried to get dressed. Dean pried himself off the couch and stumbled to fetch a pack of baby wipes and the hairbrush from my purse. Our 'fuck kit', I liked to think of it.

"Still worth it," he said while kneeling before me, wiping away the half-dried love juices from my inner thighs.

Even as I frantically scrubbing off streaks of cum and ruined mascara, I couldn't help but grin down at Dean. "Yeah. It totally was."


End file.
